Page 35 of How to Stake a Vampire

“Every single device,” Rita confirmed. “Almost like something interfered with the electronics.”

Samuel’s expression darkened. “Were there any witnesses?”

“Two,” Detective Johnson replied. “The housekeeper and the butler. They’re waiting in the servants’ quarters.”

Rita guided us there and introduced the housekeeper first.

Mrs. Betsy Clark was exactly what you might expect from a ghoul who’d spent decades working for vampire aristocracy. Her gray skin was impeccably maintained, her uniform spotless, andher demeanor suggested she could organize a dinner party for fifty while simultaneously disposing of inconvenient bodies.

“Lord Chudwell was such a refined gentleman.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and blew her nose noisily. “Always said please and thank you when he asked me to make him a Bloody Mary. Very considerate.”

“Does she mean a Bloody Mary or abloodyMary?” Bo whispered.

Didi and I hushed him. Detective Johnson looked like he was having second thoughts about taking on this case.

“About this morning,” Samuel prompted gently while Betsy sniffed. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“I was in the kitchen preparing Lord Chudwell’s breakfast when I heard music and my master shouting from the front of the house.”

“Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony,” Didi said grimly.

Betsy nodded tearfully.

“Did you see the attacker?” I asked.

“I only caught a glimpse of him when I ran into the entrance hall. He was a tall gentleman in a vintage coat. Moved like a dancer.” She furrowed her brow a little, her tone turning stringent. “Much better posture than these modern vampires with their scruffy outfits and their slouching.”

An image of Virgil rose immediately to my mind.

Barney’s expression had grown increasingly troubled while the ghoul spoke.

Quincy the butler was a different story entirely. Whereas Mrs. Clark was moderately chatty, the vampire still seemed shell-shocked by his master’s passing and kept wringing his hands.

“The master had received letters,” he quavered, his pale eyes swinging nervously between us. “Threats. I pressed him to inform the authorities, but he refused and burned them all.”

My shoulders knotted. None of the other victims had reported receiving sinister correspondence.

“What did the letters say?” Barney asked tensely.

Quincy gulped at the vampire’s grim expression.

“They were from someone claiming to be an old friend.” The butler faltered. “He said he wanted to meet Master Chudwell to talk about the old ways. That—that Masterhadto help him change things for the vampire community.”

I recalled the words from the blood purity manifesto the Tremaines had received with a degree of dread.

“Did the letters have a return address?” Samuel asked.

“No, sir.”

Didi was furiously scribbling notes. “And Lord Chudwell never mentioned this man’s name?”

“No, miss.”

I frowned. This sounded more and more like our suspect had been playing a long game.

“Is there anything else we should know?” I asked.

Quincy’s pale gaze met mine. “I told Detective Johnson that the cats saw everything. You should talk to them.”